A Snowy Day
by HelloDenmark
Summary: Busy with work, Thranduil forgets to spend time with his young son as the snow falls over Mirkwood. Soon though, he is forced to remember what is truly important to him, as he helps his son block his nightmares. Prequel one-short of the Hope of Mirkwood series.


_A/N: Long time no see. This is just a small one-shot I've been working on over Christmas!_

 **A Snowy Day**

 _The year 1042 of the third age. Legolas is five years old._

The pitter-pattering of small wet feet moved quickly through the hallways of the Elvenking's Halls, exclamations followed as the feet no doubt swerved out of the way of servants and the like. Thranduil didn't look up from the paperwork he was correcting as the door to his office was pushed open, knowing the footsteps of his elfling by heart.

The stacks of paper around him were endless at this point of year, and he had been hauled up in his office for the past few weeks to try and work his way through it. The snows made it harder to patrol, especially now that the darkness was rising in Mirkwood, and it was harder getting provisions for themselves and the many settlements inside the forest.

"Ada," his elfling's voice sounded breathlessly from the doorway, and then the wet feet made their way over to his desk. Legolas barely able to pear over the edge of it to see what he was doing.

"Hmm?" Thranduil responded absentmindedly, as he read through the new treaty he had made with the one of the mannish settlements. They wanted too much from him compared to what little he got in return, but he didn't know if he could go without it nevertheless.

"Ada, I've been out in the snow all day playing and it's so deep! You wouldn't believe what…"

Thranduil toned out his son's voice as Legolas started to babble about everything that he had done that day. At first he was committed to concentrating on both things at the same time, but soon his focus rested entirely on the treaty before him and everything else just faded to the background until his attention was drawn back to his son as Legolas asked impatiently, probably for the second time.

"So, will you come with me?" His little son sounded so eager and Thranduil resolutely kept his eyes on his work because he knew that the moment he looked into Legolas' big, ice blue eyes, he would cave.

"Come with you where?" Thranduil asked as he pulled out a fresh piece of paper and began answering the ones who had drafted the treaty.

"Haven't you been listening to me?" Legolas then asked, his voice becoming deflated and unsure.

"Of course I have," Thranduil lied, unable to hurt his son, as he knew he would be if he knew he hadn't been listening at all.

"Then you would know what I am talking about," Legolas said quietly. "Will you please come with me, Ada?"

"I can't," Thranduil responded, placing the treaty in the already-dealt-with-pile and picked up a report from one of the stacks, looking it over for a moment before taking another one as well, his eyes flickering between them. "You know that Ada is very busy."

"I know… But I promise it won't take more than a few minutes."

"I can't, Legolas," Thranduil said sternly. "Why don't you go see if Nenion can play with you instead?"

"But, I already told you that Nenion-"

"Then I'm sure Sírwen will want to," Thranduil interrupted impatiently as frustration at the news that the darkness was gathering even more reached him from the report he was reading.

"But-"

"Legolas!" Thranduil snapped sternly. His son's voice was immediately cut off. "I don't have time for this right now. I have important matters to see to."

The silence that followed made him able to concentrate on the report of orcs moving up northwards from the southern part of the forest, attacking the patrols stationed there. It was only broken by the quiet sound of his door opening and then closing again, something that he barely registered, his thoughts already filled with plans and politics.

O

"Mana le carita?" Alfirin asked dryly as he leaned in over Legolas' prone body, his intense yellow and green eyes locking onto his ward's gaze, which had been glaring at the sky. [What are you doing?]

Legolas was lying on the snow with his arms crossed over his chest, a slightly petulant expression on his face as he glared into the cloudy skies, snow falling into his silvery-white hair. After having been with his ward for more than a year he was able to read the exhaustion and hurt deep in those endless, ice blue eyes.

"I'm protesting," Legolas snapped in irritation, staring upside down at Alfirin instead.

Alfirin crouched by Legolas' head, his lips curving into a feral grin and he flicked his ward's nose. "And how is that working out for you, Titta Lassë?"

Legolas just glared at him before moving his focus back to the sky, blinking as a snowflake fell into his eye. "It's working just fine," he muttered sulkily.

Alfirin laughed at that, amusement glittering in his hawk eyes. He looked around the snow-clad garden, eyes stopping at the sight of three elfling-sized snow sculptures rising beside Legolas. They had been patted gently into the rough form of elves, two tall and one small.

The small snow-elf was clad in green leaves, and the snow-elf to the left of it looked like it was wearing a dress with the shape the snow had been patted into. The one to the left, though, had a crown of twigs and leaves upon its head. They had arms of branches stuck into them, fashioned in such a way that the two tall ones were holding the hands of the elfling between them.

It was clearly something that his ward had spent the whole day creating.

"I'm usually not partial to wearing a crown but if that is the way you see me then I guess it could be worse," Alfirin said in an attempt to put a smile on the elfling's lips, his own grin widening as he turned back to look at Legolas.

It didn't work, however, and he could only watch as tears welled up in Legolas' blue eyes only to be blinked furiously away as he parted red lips to take a shuddering breath.

"It's Ada," Legolas said quietly, turning his head and staring at the figure. A tear slipped unchecked from the corner of his eye, down his temple until it disappeared in his hair.

"Well, I think there is a certain grey dog that's missing from this family, isn't there?" Alfirin asked, reaching out to caress the elfling's flushed cheek, cold from lying in the snow. "You haven't made Wolf yet."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Legolas muttered miserably. "Ada doesn't want to see them. He doesn't have time…"

"There are many decisions that rest upon his shoulders as king," Alfirin told his ward, as he had done many times before. "It does not mean that he does not care for you."

"He never has time," Legolas whispered, turning onto his side, the snow crunching underneath his body, and closing his eyes. A long moment he just laid there silently, but then he mumbled, "I'm tired, Alf…"

Alfirin combed his fingers through Legolas' hair before pulling the elfling's emerald cloak over him and fixing his scarf so that it warmed him better. "Then sleep, Titta Lassë," he responded liltingly in Nandorin. "Do you wish to go to your room or are you not yet finished protesting?"

"Not finished protesting yet," Legolas mumbled sleepily, and Alfirin was finally rewarded with the sight of a tired smile upon his ward's lips.

"Then sleep," Alfirin responded, his fingers ghosting over Legolas' forehead and closed eyelids. "I will not stray far." And then he was gone, up into the trees around the garden, watching his ward from above as the small elfling slowly fell asleep in the snow even as more fell down around him.

O

"You are late for dinner, my hard-working husband."

A smile appeared upon Thranduil's lips as he heard his wife's voice, his shoulders immediately relaxing from their tense positions. Emelin glided in behind him and laid her arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss against his cheek as he leaned back in his chair, abandoning the letter he had been writing.

"Is it evening already?" Thranduil murmured, leaning his head forward as his wife began to massage his neck.

Emelin gave a musical laugh at that. "I would sooner call it nightfall," she told him, squeezing his shoulders one last time before moving around his desk until she could sit upon its edge, looking at her husband through sparkling, emerald green eyes. Her silvery-white hair was brushed behind her ear on one side of her face, a loving smile upon her lips.

"No matter, though. You are not the only one who was late for dinner; our errant elfling also hasn't made an appearance yet. I would have thought that he was here with you," she chuckled.

Thranduil felt a stone setting in his stomach at those words, remembering for the first time since it had happened his encounter with Legolas that very same day. "Legolas?"

"Yes, Legolas," Emelin said a smile still upon her lips. "Wasn't it sweet that he has spent all day making sculptures of us in the snow?" The stone in his stomach suddenly weighed a whole ton. Emelin didn't notice this, though, as her eyes took a faraway look, sadness entering them. "I think he was even up before dawn… His nightmares interrupting another nights rest…"

Thranduil could no longer handle it, leaning forward and placing his head in his hands, his elbows resting upon his desk.

His wife was silent for a moment but then she asked perceptively her voice suddenly wary, "What did you do, Thran?"

"…I sent him away." Thranduil whispered tiredly, unable to look up as he felt his wife stiffen beside him. "I was too caught up to listen to what he was trying to tell me. I thought he wanted someone to play with so I told him to go find Nenion or Sírwen instead."

"Oh Thranduil…" Emelin sighed. "I know how busy you are, but you haven't spent any time with him in weeks. He's stopped expecting any answers when he asks you something."

"Surely it isn't that bad," Thranduil winced.

Emelin arched an eyebrow at him. "If you had been listening then you would know that Nenion in on a trip with his father, out collecting pinecones and nuts in the forest, and Sírwen has gone with her mother and father back to their settlement for the winter. Her father and mother have taken time off from work to spend time with her and their families. They haven't been in the Halls for almost a week now."

Thranduil's mouth became dry as he scrunched his eyes shut in defeat. "Damn it…" he cursed under his breath.

Emelin was silent for a moment but then she reached out and caressed his hair away from his face. "He loves you, Thranduil. Go and find him. You know our elfling, you know that he will forgive you if you ask."

"I know..." Thranduil said pained. "He has inherited your heart, my love…" He rose up from his chair and stepped closer to her before pressing a loving kiss against her forehead before leaning his against it. "What would I do without you?"

Emelin smiled at that, kissing him gently before saying, "Go to him, Thran. He has been in the garden all day; perhaps this is where you should start looking. I will take a look at your paperwork while you are away and start organizing this mess so you can take the rest of the evening off. Give our elfling a bit of love."

"I will," Thranduil answered, squeezing her hand. "Thank you."

He stepped around her and hurried towards the door, his steps soon hastening to almost a run as he set out towards the garden his son frequented most. The guards around the Halls looked startled at him, almost drawing their swords before he waved them down dismissively.

Soon, although it felt like a life age to him at the time, he moved beyond the archway leading to the garden, slowing to a halt as he gazed around the snowy landscape for his elfling. There was no innocent laughter to be heard, nor was the sound of an elfling's voice chattering with the nature around him. It was all quiet.

Legolas was not there.

He was stopped from turning around, however, by the sight of three mounds of snow rising up over that, which lay in a blanket over the ground. The sculptures his wife had told him about were unclear because of the new snow that had fallen over them, but he could spot the remnants of a crown upon the head of the tallest one.

Transfixed, he moved closer to them where they stood not far from a group of trees. As he moved closer, though, he became aware of another small mound in the snow.

Instantly, his heart clenched and he ran forwards, throwing himself onto his knees beside it and frantically beginning to brush away the snow. His efforts soon uncovered his son's emerald green cloak, silvery-white tresses, and his pale face.

With a shaking hand, he reached out to cup his son's flushed cheeks, wincing at the coldness of his skin. His panicked eyes took in his elfling's closed eyes, long dark eyelashes resting upon his cheeks. Quickly, he pulled Legolas completely out of the snow and onto his lap, cradling him in his arms. He was just about to check if his elfling was breathing when Legolas' eyes fluttered upon by themselves, revealing disorientated cerulean orbs.

He blinked multiple times before looking up at the person who was holding him, his bewilderment showing tiredly when he finally saw him.

"Ada?" Legolas murmured, blinking sluggishly at him.

"Yes, it's me, Greenleaf," Thranduil told him softly, reaching up to caress his son's cold cheek. His brows furrowed with worry. "Are you tired?"

Legolas nodded, his eyes slipping closed once more as he burrowed it closer to his father, reaching up to twist his small, gloved fist into Thranduil's tunic.

Thranduil tightened his arms around him before getting to his feet. "How about we get you inside then? Get you warmed up again?"

Legolas nodded against the side of his neck, his other arm slipping over his shoulders to grip the back of his tunic.

Thranduil hugged his son but as he was about to turn back to the Halls when he once more saw the snow family, halfway undistinguishable by the newly fallen snow. Guilt churned in his gut for not having taken the small amount of time earlier to see what his son had created.

"They are beautiful, Legolas," Thranduil whispered to his son, pressing a kiss against his temple. "I love them."

His son was silent at his complements, his small hands only tightening the grip they had on his tunic.

Thranduil didn't press the matter, knowing that he was the one in fault. Instead, he walked back towards the archway leading into the Halls. Immediately, his eyes landed on two of his guards, who had apparently followed him here despite his insistence, no doubt having been alarmed by his hurry earlier.

They were gazing upon his pale and flushed son with matching frowns upon their faces, worry written clearly in their eyes. As he stepped up to them, they raised their gazes to him, bowing their head and stepping away to allow him to pass by them.

He did just that, unaware of the yellow and green eyes that were watching him intently from one of the trees as he moved through the hallways until he reached the royal wing. He stopped one of the servants he passed to bring some warm soup and some bread to his rooms, as well as some hot chocolate.

When he reached the royal wing, Wolf scampered out of Legolas' room, where he had been lazing around most of the day, not being too fond of the snow. The small, grey dog followed them as Thranduil carried Legolas into his rooms and over to his fireplace. He then sat down before it, cradling his son in his lap.

In the light, he could see his son a little better. Could see the shadows underneath his eyes, accumulated from all the nightmares he had now that the darkness was rising even more strongly, burning away all that which was once light inside the trees of Mirkwood.

Too many times, he would awaken to the sound of his son's screams, to Wolf scratching his door, or be woken by the guards to the royal quarters who could better hear smaller sounds of distress. More and more, however, Legolas had become silent in his pain, only screaming when it was really bad. Sometimes they would only find out about it in the morning or even the day after, whether it was because they woke at dawn from him crawling into their bed, if he was out of bed long before them, or simply if he looked tired or shaky.

The kitchen had taken to sometimes allowing their son to help knead dough or the like if he came to them at the crack of dawn. His son's suffering had not gone unnoticed by anyone inside the Halls and most were trying to help him in any way that they could.

Thranduil brushed his fingers over Legolas' cheek, red with cold, a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin. Legolas had closed his eyes, but he wasn't sleeping. He gently unwound the scarf around his neck, pulled off his damp, emerald cloak, and pried his fists away from his tunic so he could pull of the gloves covered his small hands. Soon the wet, leather boots followed as well.

Afterwards, he reached out behind him to grab a woolen plaid that was slung over one end of his armchair. With gentle movements, he wrapped it around his cold child.

"Is this better?" he whispered to his son, rubbing his hands gently up and down his arms and back as he continued to hold him.

He should have noticed that his son was getting as exhausted as he was now. He had had nightmares for a long time now, but he was usually able to cope during the day despite that. For him to be this tired it meant that he had been kept awake at night for many days in a row.

Legolas nodded his head tiredly, opening his eyes as Wolf moved onto Thranduil's lap as well to be able to nuzzle and lick Legolas' cheek. Immediately, his elfling giggled softly, reaching out to pet his beloved dog.

While normally he would have pushed the dog down, this time Thranduil allowed Wolf to step all over him if it only meant hearing his son's laughter, …seeing his smile.

In the end, when the head cook, Maeasil, delivered the soup and bread to his room, he reluctantly brushed Wolf off his lap after giving him a small pet. She was the one who had taken Legolas under her wing in the kitchen, a homey woman with a great heart. Her brown eyes showed her sadness as they landed on his elfling.

She placed the tray she held upon the sofa table right behind them before pouring what looked like creamy pumpkin soup into two of the bowls. She handed one of them to him with a spoon, but he shook his head when she moved to hand the other to Legolas.

Understanding without words, she placed the bowl on the table right behind him instead.

"Is there anything more you wish for, my King?" Maeasil asked respectfully.

"No, thank you for your haste," Thranduil answered. He gently nudged his son and Legolas needed no more encouragement before saying softly, "Thank you, Mae."

Maeasil smiled at the elfling, crouching down to pat him motherly on the cheek while responding in a soft voice, "You're welcome, young prince." Then she stood once more and, after giving her King a nod of the head, walked out of the room.

"Here, Greenleaf," Thranduil said, dipping the spoon in the soup and blowing on the orange liquid before moving it to his son's lips. "This will get you warmed up soon."

Legolas didn't take it, though. Instead, he looked up at him with those endless blue eyes of his and Thranduil immediately felt as though he was being pulled into them. Even as tired as he was now, Legolas still seemed to have so much power swimming in his eyes, so much more power than him… His son was so powerful that sometimes it was difficult to remember that he was just a small elfling, a small elfling who had already gone through so much pain…

"Please, Greenleaf," Thranduil whispered. "You need to eat… It will give you strength and warmth."

His son stared into his eyes for a moment longer before looking at the spoonful of pumpkin soup before him. As soon as those blue moved away from his, he felt like he could breathe deeply once more, but he also felt strangely empty.

Legolas opened his mouth and allowed his father to gently start feeding him the soup. Slowly, heat returned to his limbs as he was fed the soup in the light of the gently crackling fire, his father's warmth against his body.

"You were right, Legolas," Thranduil started gently between spoons of warm soup. "…I wasn't listening to you. I should have been, but I wasn't. And that was my fault, it was through no fault of yours."

Legolas leaned against him, his eyes sliding halfway shut as he listened to his father's voice while absent-mindedly eating soup from his hand.

"You are the son of a _King_ , Legolas," Thranduil continued with a sigh. "In many ways your life will be different from that of your friends. No matter how much I may wish to, I do not have as much time to spend with you, as Nenion or Sírwen's fathers have to spend with them, because there are many people who need my attention just like you.

"My father once told me that he had countless children …that all the elves in Mirkwood were his children, his to love, his to protect, and his to nurture. Now I am King and I finally understand what he meant when he told me then. I have so many people who are counting on me to be ready to help them, to make the right decisions, counsel them, and to love them enough to care about their needs and their lives…"

Thranduil was silent for a moment, feeding his son, but then he put down the spoon and hooked a finger underneath his son's chin, lifting his head so those endless blue eyes locked onto his.

"But let me tell you a secret, Greenleaf," he whispered to him. " _You_ are my _son_ , and I love you more than anything. I love you so much, and depend so much on you always being there that I sometimes forget that you need just as much attention as every elf inside this realm. I forgot to listen to you today as I should have, for the minutes it would take me to see the beautiful family you made in the snow today were no more than it would have taken me to care for one of my citizens. I'm sorry, Legolas."

Legolas lips had parted during his words and tears had welled up in those beautiful eyes. Thranduil couldn't pass any words through the lump in his throat, seeing that expression on his son's face. Just as he thought Legolas was going to burst into tears, his little son broke into a tired smile.

"I love you, too, Ada," the elfling whispered innocently, immediately wrapping his small arms around his father's neck and holding him tightly, pressing his face into the King's shoulder.

Thranduil blinked in astonishment before pulling himself together and wrapping his arms around his son, holding him tightly as he closed his eyes and nuzzled Legolas' soft hair.

Valar, what would he do without this little being in his arms?

After a few minutes, Thranduil cleared his throat awkwardly and drew back, saying with a hoarse voice, "Come now. Eat the rest of your soup."

Legolas only smiled at his father, accepting the bowl he gave him as well as a small lump of bread. Using the bread, he scraped up the remains of the pumpkin soup. At first he ate with more energy, but soon he came to lean heavily against his father once more, sluggishly chewing the bread.

Thranduil took his own bowl of soup and speedily spooned it down, his eyes never leaving his young son. After finishing most of it, he put it back on the table, deciding that Emelin would be satisfied enough with that. Wolf looked at him askance from where he was lying beside the King, but Thranduil just narrowed his eyes at him.

He took the now empty bowl from Legolas and gave him the small mug of hot chocolate instead, now cold enough to drink for the elfling. Legolas took it warily, but a small smile curled at the corners of his lips as he saw what it was. Inhaling the scent deeply, he then slurped at the liquid, emerging with a milky moustache upon his upper lip.

Thranduil couldn't withhold a snort of laughter, but shook his head when his elfling looked up at him with curious blue eyes. Instead, he reached out to smooth his thumb over Legolas' soft cheek. His son was still too pale.

Legolas made himself comfortable against his father's broad chest as he sipped at the hot chocolate, both of them enjoying the silence as they sat in front of the warm fireplace.

"What were you doing sleeping out in the snow, Greenleaf?" Thranduil asked after a while, taking the now empty mug from his son.

Legolas ducked his head, mumbling something undistinguishable.

"What was that?"

"…Protesting…" Legolas mumbled reluctantly without raising his head.

Thranduil didn't know whether he should laugh or cry after that. He couldn't stop seeing the mound of snow his son's body had become, how cold he had been to touch…

"How about we make a deal?" Thranduil asked hoarsely. "The next time you want to protest or if you're unhappy about something you come to either me or your mother. You should definitely not be lying outside in the cold."

"But Alfirin was there," Legolas said, his head finally popping up, a small furrow between his brows.

Thranduil had to forcefully stop his eye from twitching in irritation. "Alfirin was there?" he asked, keeping his voice calm even as the dragon rose up inside him.

That blasted wood-elf had stood by as his son decided to _sleep_ in the snow! He had allowed him to stay there for so long that his whole _body_ was almost covered in the stuff! Without telling neither him nor his wife!

His son's small hands touching his cheeks brought him back to the present, and he found himself gazing directly into Legolas' infinite blue eyes, so calm and innocent. Instantly, he felt himself relax.

"Don't be mad at Alf, Ada," Legolas told him. "He was watching over me from one of the trees the whole time."

"That is not what concerns me," Thranduil muttered, but pushed the subject away, saving his words for a certain woof-elf. "No matter, though, you are with me now… Are you warm?"

Legolas nodded in response, only his head sticking up out of the plaid he had wrapped him in. Thranduil smiled and stood, still holding his son in his arms. He carried Legolas into his bedroom and placed him upon the bed. Through the open door, he looked back at Wolf, glaring at the dog until it sprawled out lazily in front of the fireplace, staying there instead of following them. Satisfied, he moved over to his closet.

After a brief debate with himself, he pulled out a bag from the back of the closet, pulling a folded, elfling-sized nightshirt out of it before putting it back. The nightshirt was made from soft, delicate fabric, lilac colored with dark blue embroidered leaves around the neckline, cuffs, and hem. If one looked close to the fabric you would be able to see the faint patterns layered in it, finished with delicate gold stitching.

It was supposed to be a present for his son for the winter solstice, but he supposed it couldn't hurt to give it to him a little earlier that year. He turned to his son and placed it on his lap, going down on one knee before him so he could look him in the eye.

"Don't tell your mother that I am too lazy to go all the way to your room to bring you a nightshirt," he whispered conspiratorially to his son, who giggled at him. A smile lifted his lips. "Happy Winter solstice tomorrow, little one."

There was a smile on his elfling's lips as he pulled the satin ribbon out of its bow and unfolded the nightshirt, running his hands slowly over to soft fabric on his lap.

"Do you like it?" Thranduil asked in a gentle voice, already knowing the answer from the look on his son's face.

Legolas looked up at him and nodded with a brilliant smile, before he wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Ada."

Thranduil could see the delight in his elfling's eyes, but he could also see the darkened blue color of them, dark compared to their usual icy blue, dark with tiredness. Seeing this, he gently but hurriedly helped Legolas out of his clothes and into his new nightshirt before helping him in the bathroom.

Soon, his son was sitting in the middle of the bed with loose hair, yawning and almost slumping together in exhaustion. He knew from experience that even though Legolas was so tired he would still wake up in an hour or so if he couldn't block out the nightmares he was getting from the darkening trees.

Moving up onto the bed as well, he sat cross-legged before his son, having changed into his nightclothes as well.

"Do you remember what we've been practicing?" he asked his son gently.

Legolas nodded his head and his fist rubbed at his eyes.

"Let's do it now, shall we?"

Legolas shook his head listlessly, blinking before looking up at him with eyes so filled with fatigue that Thranduil felt his stomach clench at the sight. "'m too tired… Don't wanna."

"I know, Greenleaf," Thranduil said, rubbing his thumb over Legolas' cheek. "I know. But we have to do this; we have to try so that you can sleep for once, all right? I know you're tired, but I need you to do this for me. Start by focusing your power."

There were almost tears in Legolas' eyes but he sniffled and brought his hands up so they were facing each other in front of him, concentration furrowing his brow.

"Focus your power," Thranduil told him softly. "Imagine a hollow ball forming between your hands. Feel your power moving from your heart, down your arms, and into your hands. Feel how warm they get."

For a long moment, nothing happened but then a spark crashed to life between Legolas' hands, shocking him into losing his concentration so that it faded once more.

"Gently," Thranduil told him. "Try again."

He had been able to feel the power in even that small spark. He had long ago understood that Legolas' powers would by far surpass his own, in fact they already did. Solely the fact that he was unconsciously connecting to all the trees around him and pulling in all their memories and thoughts as he slept was astounding, but he had also managed to keep Captain Thalon alive for two days by giving him energy.

He worried about him sometimes…

Another spark of light came to life between Legolas' hands and this time he managed to maintain it, slowly expanding it until it was a glowing bulb between his palms.

Thranduil had never been able to do that. He could only make small spheres or sparks, and never with the amount of power he could now feel radiating out of the bulb of light between his son's hands.

Legolas tried to make it larger but it soon imploded in his hands. It was a new thing for him, this exercise. Thranduil was trying to see if he could find something, anything at all, which would stop his son from seeing such terrors in his sleep.

But he had not practiced with him for a few weeks now, so busy with work that he forgot all about it.

"That's good, Legolas," he said. "Now try to imagine that sphere of light circling around your mind instead. Instead of sending the power through your arms, then send it up to your mind. Imagine all your thoughts being encased by a wall of light that nothing can slip through."

Legolas closed his tired eyes, and Thranduil could feel the power inside him moving to try and follow his father's instructions. He squinted as Legolas' aura first brightened, but then faded down once more after a while.

He waited patiently until Legolas opened his eyes again, looking even more tired than before.

"Did you manage?" he asked his elfling.

Legolas eyes slid closed once more, but he nodded. Seeing this, Thranduil pressed a kiss against his forehead before drawing him down to lie on the bed, laying beside him and pulling over wine red covers over the both of them as he held his son.

"Then sleep, my tired elfling," he whispered gently to him. "May your dreams be peaceful."

Legolas' mouth went slack with sleep almost immediately, but his little fist didn't let go of the hold he had on his father's nightshirt. Almost as if he was trying to make sure that he wouldn't be left alone.

Thranduil studied his son for a long while, making sure that his sleep was undisturbed, but soon the comfort of having his son tucked against his side, sleeping, made him feel his own tiredness and he soon dropped off to sleep right beside him.

He woke to the light shuffling of his wife getting into bed on the other side of their son. The sky outside had turned completely dark and the light of the moon cast a silvery light into the room from the windows. Emelin smiled to him as they locked gazes over the sleeping form of their son.

Returning it, Thranduil then turned his attention to the sleeping Legolas beside him, looking for any signs of a nightmare.

"He is sleeping peacefully," Emelin told him softly, laying down and brushing her hand feather-light over their elfling's hair. "Finally."

"How much time has passed?" Thranduil asked her sleepily.

"About three hours since you went to find him." Emelin reached over Legolas' body and took his hand in hers as she settled down, Legolas curled up safely between them, his eyes closed in exhaustion.

"Then he has slept peacefully for two," Thranduil sighed, hoping that his sleep would remain peaceful for the rest of the night. He pulled his wife's hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss against it before resting their joint hands on his chest.

"You should get some more sleep, Thran," Emelin whispered to him. "You are tired as well."

He nodded and looked up to gaze deeply into her eyes, immersing himself almost desperately in the love that was still in her eyes before allowed his to drift out of focus, letting sleep claim him once more.

He woke groggily not three hours later to the feeling of his son moving at his side. It took a moment for his mind to catch up, but a scream escaping his son's lips brought him back to the present quicker than anything ever could. He bolted upright the same time as his wife, turning to Legolas.

Absentmindedly, he noted the whimpering of Wolf as the dog scratched the outside of the door to the bedroom to be let in.

His elfling was wrapped on the covers; sweat running down his brow, and an expression of pain marring his pale face. Whimpers continued to spill from his lips as he jerked his head from side to side as if desperately trying to get away from something.

"Legolas!" Thranduil called hurriedly, reaching out to shake his son's shoulder even as his wife tried to wake their son as well.

It took a little while but then Legolas' eyes flew up, a cry dying on his lips. He gasped for air as his dark, teary eyes stared up at his father, the horror in them slowly being replaced by grief and guilt.

Then second his son choked out a sob, Thranduil was there, enveloping him in his arms. "It isn't your fault," he whispered hoarsely into his ear, damning the trees far away even if it wasn't their fault either. "There is nothing you can do to help them… It's going to be all right-"

Legolas shook his head against his shoulder, tears wetting the fabric. "It isn't," he choked. "We have to help them, Ada… It's the dark… It hurts so much." Another sob escaped Legolas' lips as small fingers bore themselves into his skin, holding cramp-like onto his shirt.

Thranduil tightened his hold, feeling as Emelin rubbed their son's back soothingly as well. He met her eyes over their son's shoulder with the same desperation that filled hers.

There was nothing he could say.

Clenching his eyes together, he cursed silently before drawing back, schooling his expression as his son's pained eyes opened to look at his, wet, salty tears striping his cheeks.

"I know, Greenleaf," he told him gently, pained. "I know that it hurts. We are doing all that we can to keep the darkness at bay, but in this it would seem that even our best efforts aren't enough… There is nothing we can do."

Legolas sniffled, still looking at him with those pleading eyes.

He took his son's hands and brought them out before him in the same position they had been in before. Immediately, Legolas choked on another sob, more tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I need you to concentrate for me one more time, my son," Thranduil told him, firmly even though it pained him.

Legolas shook his head. "I don't wanna…" he mewled. "I don't wanna leave them all alone…"

Thranduil's throat clenched at those words, and he saw Emelin raising a hand to cover her lips behind Legolas.

"I know," he choked. "I know you don't want to, but you need to. You need to do what I say, Legolas. Now, concentrate."

Legolas hiccupped, his breathing speeding up slightly as more tears slid down his cheeks.

"Do this, Legolas," Thranduil pleaded with him. "For me."

Legolas' eyes clenched shut but soon Thranduil could feel the power coiling in his son once more until a orb burst into life between his palm, blazing with desperation, anger, and grief. He squinted as the power inside the sphere rolled over him as he sat right before his son, unable to look at the compact power, and unable to believe that it was created by his five year old son.

"Good," he told him strained. "Now imagine that as a shield around your mind. Imagine that blocking out everything, blocking out all darkness."

This time the power drained from the ball in his son's hands, being absorbed back into his body as his aura flared and fluctuated, lighting the room up temporarily before it faded once more.

Legolas' eyes opened with a defeated look in their depths before he then threw his arms around his father's neck, burying his face in his shoulder as he gave in to tears once more.

"Shh…" Thranduil shushed him choked, rubbing his hands up and down his son's back while meeting his wife's tearful, green eyes. "It's all right, Greenleaf. Everything's going to be all right. Just sleep… sleep now."

He laid down with his son still in his arms, pressing a kiss against his forehead and whispering softly to him. Not long after, Emelin's voice joined his own as she gently sung him her lullaby.

A while passed before the tension drained out of Legolas' body as he fell asleep within his parents' embrace. Thranduil and Emelin met each other's eyes in despair.

"Will it work?" she asked him.

"It worked for almost six hours, I think," Thranduil answered, not completely sure of himself. "He need to practice keeping it strong even in sleep… He needs to practice not letting it go…"

It has to work.


End file.
